Little Things

P1010245

People always say It’s the little things. It really is.
The little things give us the will to survive.
It’s the pink marmalade glow above the bay against the dark forest I walk through
on the way home. The frozen dirt beneath my boots is hard as concrete,
tap tap tap. Dripping icicles that dangle like fangs in the mouth of a cave.
The things like a child’s cherub face split wide in a grin or
a lilting melody that catches me off guard. The fire dancer swirling his flames in circles
and loops, igniting the air. People will stop to stare and applaud.
It’s the crunch of leaves beneath my sneakers, announcing autumn.
The birdsongs of dawn as I walk to school, alone on crisp mornings.
It’s the emptiness of the beach in winter, snow meeting sand.
The wind howling its favorite tune, bending around the boards of my house.
It is me clasping a mug of hot tea, a cat nestling into the lap of someone
talking soft into the phone. The flash of a stranger’s smile.
Sometimes I forget these things, but it seems that they always return.
They return when I need them most.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s